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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859702">led away by imperfect impostors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefuzzydude/pseuds/littlefuzzydude'>littlefuzzydude</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Character, Blind Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Can be read as gen, Canon-Typical Violence, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It/Its Pronouns for Androids (Detroit: Become Human), It/Its Pronouns for Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Relationship, Simon Dies at Stratford Tower (Detroit: Become Human), Temporary Character Death, for the first chapter and a half anyway, nothing graphic though, well mostly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:15:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefuzzydude/pseuds/littlefuzzydude</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor listens to the pleas of a broken android. After all, it's not <i>against</i> its mission to take the PL600 with it to Jericho.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor &amp; Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Connor &amp; Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Connor/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson &amp; Connor, Josh &amp; Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Markus &amp; Simon (Detroit: Become Human), North &amp; Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Pre Connor/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>220</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well I have a new hyperfixation haha. This fandom sucked me in hard, first with fics and then with playthroughs on YouTube. Somehow I managed to get interested in D:BH right before it came out on Steam, so I definitely bought it and completed a playthrough in 2 days.</p><p>This fic is fully written! I will be posting a chapter every few days to every week, depending on how fast I edit and how long I can resist posting. I wrote this incredibly fast for me, I was on NaNo pace for a week which is something I've never done before. I just saw Simon's interrogation in <i>Last Chance, Connor</i> and I had to do something with it.</p><p>Thank you to the wonderful <a href="https://drygrasses.tumblr.com">drygrasses</a> for betaing. I'm sorry for dragging you back into this fandom! (But not really haha)</p><p>Title is from "This is Gospel" by Panic! at the Disco.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor had four minutes and nineteen seconds to find Jericho. Its encounter with Detective Reed had unfortunately eaten up thirty-six seconds of the limited time that Lieutenant Anderson had provided, but now it had the evidence out in front of it and could focus on finding what it came here for. If it couldn’t find the location of the deviants, it would be deactivated. It would deserve to be deactivated. But it knew it could find Jericho, so that wouldn’t be necessary.</p><p>The amount of evidence they’d collected was pitiful: three androids, one which likely never knew where Jericho was to begin with, and another too damaged to reactivate; a collection of video clips it had already analyzed past the point of usefulness; an encrypted journal it had no chance of deciphering without the deviant that wrote it; and a useless statue made in some misguided tribute to what or whoever rA9 was. But the answer had to be here somewhere.</p><p>Connor considered its options. The PL600 from the Stratford Tower would probably know something, if Connor could reactivate it. It was part of an organized group; it had been thinking of Jericho as it shot itself. Surely, it must know where Jericho was located. It was Connor’s best chance, anyway.</p><p>A quick scan of the deviant’s system revealed that it only needed one biocomponent for reactivation. One of the other two deviants in the room was also a PL600, so it would likely have the necessary component if it hadn’t been damaged when it was shot. Connor crossed the length of the room in a few long strides. A scan of this android revealed that it did, in fact, have the required biocomponent intact.</p><p>It would be a simple matter to remove the part and use it to reactivate the other PL600. Connor reached up to pull the component from behind the deviant’s ear.</p><p>
  <em> You lied to me, Connor. </em>
</p><p>Connor’s hand froze at the words echoing in its memory banks. Its processor pulled up the image of the deviant being shot three times in succession by snipers and falling to its knees. Connor vaguely registered its hand starting to shake as the memory played.</p><p>The timer Connor had set for itself flickered in the corner of its vision, drawing its attention away from the memory recall. Three minutes and fifty-five seconds. Who knew how long it would take to convince the other deviant to give up the location of Jericho? Connor needed to move now. It couldn't risk even getting close to deactivation.</p><p>It took a deep breath, the air stuttering oddly as it drew it into its synthetic lungs. “I’m sorry, Daniel,” it said, not even registering that the words had left its mouth as it pressed carefully on the necessary component. It fell out into its hand.</p><p>Connor hurried back over to the other PL600. With steady hands that would have shaken if it had let them, it slid the biocomponent into place behind the deviant’s ear. Reactivation was immediate. The deviant rocked slightly away from Connor’s hand, its movement restricted both by damage and the apparatus holding it to the wall.</p><p>"It’s dark," it said, voice layered with static. “Where… where am I?” It blinked, the whites of its eyes completely black and their irises and pupils transformed into a solid blue glow. They were clearly non-functional, probably damaged when it shot itself. Not that it would have been able to tell where it was were they functional — its processor seemed to be struggling, either overloaded by the damage its body sustained or damaged itself during the deviant’s deactivation. Its LED was bright red, barely circling at all.</p><p>Connor calculated and discarded a few dialogue options, eventually deciding to play on the housekeeper android's programmed need to help. Hopefully, that desire still existed somewhere in the deviant's fractured code. “I reactivated you so you could help me,” it said, pushing desperation into its voice. It wasn't difficult. “I must find Jericho.”</p><p>“I don't recognize your voice,” the deviant said. Something in Connor sank as it continued. “You're not one of us. I'll never tell you where Jericho is.” Its voice filled with spite. “Now leave me alone.”</p><p>Connor backed up a few steps, something twisting in its core. It wasn't getting any more out of the deviant, not like this. Connor just needed to find a way to… trick it. It ignored the small twinge that the thought sent through its system. This was the only way to get Jericho’s location, to prevent its own decommissioning.</p><p>One of the tablets had part of the broadcast from the tower, and Connor could easily sample the deviant leader’s voice. They were associates; the PL600 would know it and trust it. This would work. It had to.</p><p>Some small part of Connor protested that this was cruel. The memories that it had received while connected the deviant surfaced, soaked in emulated terror and betrayal before being cut off too abruptly. But it just shook them off, ignoring the way that the twisting in its core grew tighter. You can't be cruel to a thing, it reminded itself firmly, and deviants were nothing more than malfunctioning things.</p><p>Connor carefully walked back in front of the PL600, drawing its attention again. “Who’s there?” the deviant asked, its distorted voice almost frantic. “Who are you?”</p><p>“Everything is alright. Don't worry,” Connor said in the deviant leader’s voice, fighting to keep the words calm and level even as its own stress levels climbed. This needed to work.</p><p>“Markus, is that you?” The deviant was clearly still confused, its processor struggling to keep up, but its voice held an audible sense of relief, despite its next words. “Why did you leave me?”</p><p>Connor forced itself to ignore the sharp stab of emotion the words conjured. Machines didn't feel, it was just a malfunction. “I had no choice, they’d have killed us all.” It paused briefly, and decided to try to soothe the deviant. It wouldn’t do for its stress to climb too high and make it self-destruct before Connor could get a location. “You’ll be alright. I came to take you home.” It ignored the part of its processor that was screaming about betrayal, swallowed down the strange twisting at tricking the deviant. Its stress levels were only rising because it was so close, because it needed this information. “Just… give me the location to Jericho, we’ve got to leave now.”</p><p>“Jericho,” the deviant breathed. “Y-yes. Yes, of course.”</p><p>It twitched its arm, unable to move much more than that, and Connor deactivated the skin on its hand and gripped its forearm. It took just under a second to get the information, but as Connor pulled its hand back, the deviant raised its arm and gripped Connor’s shoulder.</p><p>“Markus?” the deviant asked, its tone shaded with panic, and Connor froze. “Is that you Markus?”</p><p>Slowly, mechanically, Connor's hand rose to disengage the PL600’s thirium pump and shut it down again. It had what it needed, the deviant had served its purpose.</p><p>“Don’t leave me again, Markus!” The deviant was almost yelling, frantic, and Connor hesitated, hand right over the pump. Echoes of betrayal stabbed at it, and fear, terror, and…</p><p>
  <em> Are you afraid to die, Connor? </em>
</p><p>“Don’t leave!”</p><p>“I won’t,” Connor said quietly, still in Markus’ voice. It dropped its hand. “I won’t leave you.”</p><p>The deviant let out a breath that sounded close to a sob. “Please, Markus. It hurts.”</p><p>Connor closed its eyes. Machines can’t feel pain. “You need to go into standby. I’ll have to carry you, and it will only hurt more if you don't.”</p><p>The grip on Connor's shoulder tightened. “Don’t leave me, Markus,” it begged.</p><p>“I won’t,” Connor said, but the other android had already gone slack, its hand sliding off Connor’s shoulder. Its crimson LED faded, still red but now only glowing faintly. It was on standby. Good.</p><p>Connor reached up and wrapped its arms around the PL600's torso, ready to lift it off the wall, and then froze. What was it doing? It had the location of Jericho now. It didn't need to take the other android with it, no matter what it had promised. A broken android would only slow it down, make it more obvious and visible. It should just leave, complete its mission.</p><p>But…</p><p>
  <em> You lied to me, Connor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don’t leave me again, Markus! </em>
</p><p>Banishing the thoughts, Connor lifted the PL600 off the wall and pulled it onto its back. It wasn't <em> against </em> its mission to take the deviant with it to Jericho. As long as it got there and neutralized the deviant leader — neutralized <em> Markus </em> — everything would be fine. Everything would work out.</p><p> </p><p>Connor somehow managed to slip out the back exit of the station without anyone noticing it or the android it was carrying. They must have still been distracted. In all, getting down to the evidence room, getting the information and getting both itself and the PL600 back out of the room had only taken Connor four minutes and twelve seconds, so it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that everyone was still busy dealing with the aftermath of Lieutenant Anderson assaulting an FBI agent.</p><p>Which was a good thing, because Connor was definitely incredibly conspicuous with the damaged android slung across its back. It hailed a taxi, connecting directly to it to bypass the need to flag it down. They needed to get away from the police station as quickly as possible.</p><p>Connor almost input Ferndale into the taxi’s navigation system, then hesitated. It glanced down, watching the deviant’s chest move with shallow breaths, shallower than they should be even in standby. It would need extensive repairs if it was going to be at all functional when they made it to Jericho, so they couldn’t head directly there. And Connor absolutely couldn’t just take it to Cyberlife. They wouldn’t bother repairing it; they’d disassemble it and analyze it to try to find out how deviancy worked. No, Connor would need to do the repairs itself, which meant going to a safe place where they wouldn’t be interrupted. So, Lieutenant Anderson’s house.</p><p>The ride to the lieutenant’s house was fairly short, and Connor spent the journey analyzing the deviant and attempting to prioritize the repairs it would need. There was nothing that Connor could do about its head; the machinery in the cranium area of any android was delicate and beyond Connor’s ability to repair without specialized equipment which he doubted the lieutenant had. There were a number of bullet holes scattered across the PL600’s torso that would need attention. Likely, many of the bullets were still lodged in its chassis, and Connor could easily remove those. Likewise, it could at least partially patch up the gaping hole above the deviant's thirium pump and the massive gouge in its left leg given even the simplest tools.</p><p>What <span>worried Connor more</span> was the amount of thirium that the PL600 was losing. Its levels were at ninety-four percent and dropping fairly rapidly. While shut down in the evidence room, the deviant’s thirium pump hadn’t been functioning and so the loss of thirium through its damaged system was minimal. Now that it was reactivated and in standby, its pump was suddenly active again, and as such thirium was starting to flow out of the damaged lines. Lieutenant Anderson likely didn’t have any in his home, so Connor’s priority needed to be patching up the largest leaks in order to minimize the deviant’s continued loss of thirium.</p><p>Once at the house, Connor pulled the PL600 from the cab and opened the front door using the spare key that Lieutenant Anderson had pointed out while grumbling at Connor for breaking his window. Sumo raised his head and looked up, letting out a quiet boof at Connor as it manhandled the deviant into the house.</p><p>“Good boy, Sumo,” Connor said, kicking the door closed behind them.</p><p>Sumo laboriously pulled himself up from his bed and followed Connor over to the couch, sniffing the PL600 curiously as Connor carefully laid it down. Its red LED flickered faintly. Connor gently pushed the dog’s face away, unable to resist giving him a small scratch between his ears. “Not right now, boy.”</p><p>The dog seemed to understand, walking a few feet away to curl up and watch Connor with those big eyes. Connor stifled a smile and turned to enter the kitchen.</p><p>It quickly scanned the lieutenant’s kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets to see if there were any implements that Connor could use for repairs. As expected, the lieutenant didn’t have any thirium, nor did he seem to have any tools specific for android repair, but Connor was built to be adaptable. It could make do. In the back of one drawer, next to a crumpled but unopened pack of cigarettes purchased approximately three years prior, Connor found a lighter. It retrieved a butter knife from the silverware drawer, knowing that it could heat the thin blade and use the hot piece of metal to melt ruptured thirium lines closed, and to seal some of the damage to the chassis. Under the sink, there was a seemingly-neglected toolbox from which Connor borrowed a pair of needle-nose pliers, which would work well enough to assist Connor in removing the bullets.</p><p>As an afterthought, it grabbed an old rag from one of the drawers and wet it in the sink.</p><p>The PL600 was in the exact same position Connor left it in. Connor watched its chest rise and fall for a moment before kneeling down beside the sofa.</p><p>There was not much that Connor could do about the damage where the deviant had shot itself. The head and face were too delicate to use such crude tools on — if Connor tried anything, it would likely do more harm than good. Nevertheless, Connor used the wet rag to wipe the thirium from the corner of the deviant’s mouth and from around the entry and exit points of the bullet. Thirium still oozed sluggishly from the holes, but at least they were now clean. Hopefully, once Connor had done what he could to repair the PL600, its self-healing programs would kick in and start to mend the damage Connor couldn’t fix.</p><p>Nineteen minutes, numerous patched thirium lines, and a small pile of six thirium-coated bullets on the coffee table later, Connor heard a key turn in the already unlocked door. It looked up just in time to see Lieutenant Anderson open the door.</p><p>“Hello, Lieutenant,” Connor greeted.</p><p>The lieutenant jumped. “Jesus Christ, Connor!” he exclaimed, whirling to look at Connor. “What the fuck are you doing h—” The words cut off as he took in the scene in front of him.</p><p>“I am attempting to repair the PL600 from Stratford Tower as much as possible before I take it with me to Jericho,” Connor said. It knew that the explanation did little to actually answer the questions that were probably on the lieutenant’s mind, really, but it seemed best to get the obvious facts out of the way first.</p><p>Lieutenant Anderson opened and closed his mouth a few times, a gesture that Connor identified as meaning that he had a lot of things to say and had no idea how to say them. After eight seconds, he turned away and closed the door. “Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “I need a fucking drink.”</p><p>He walked past Connor to the kitchen, pointedly not looking at it or the deviant on the couch. The fridge opened and something glass clattered against something else. Rather than monitor exactly what the lieutenant was doing, Connor turned back to the deviant. It had one more thirium line to close before it will have done all it could.</p><p>Two minutes and twenty-one seconds later, Lieutenant Anderson emerged from the kitchen with an open bottle of beer. Connor could feel his eyes on it but didn’t look up right away, opting instead to ensure that the line had been sealed properly.</p><p>The deviant’s thirium levels had slowly stabilized at eighty-nine percent. Not low enough to cause damage or even particular concern, but low enough that it would be advisable to get thirium into its system as soon as possible.</p><p>When Connor finally did meet the lieutenant’s gaze thirty-two seconds later, he gestured expressively at the couch. “What the fuck, Connor?”</p><p>Connor frowned. “As I said, Lieutenant—”</p><p>“Oh, don't give me any of your bullshit.” Lieutenant Anderson took a long swig from his beer, and Connor waited for him to continue. “I just punched an FBI agent for you. Don’t get me wrong, Perkins is an asshole and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But I would appreciate an explanation as to why you stole evidence instead of just getting what you went down there for.”</p><p>“I…” Connor started, then trailed off. It looked down at the deviant. Its breathing was stronger now, less labored, although its LED remained a faint red. “It begged me not to leave it again,” Connor said quietly. That wasn’t a very good explanation. It wasn’t logical, it didn’t make sense, but it was all Connor had.</p><p>“There are so many things I want to ask right now,” the lieutenant groaned, and Connor looked up at him sharply. He was staring at Connor with an expression that it couldn’t identify, no matter how much its social relations programs scrambled to do so. After a long moment, he asked, “I thought he was dead?”</p><p>Connor resisted the urge to tell the lieutenant, yet again, that androids weren’t alive and therefore couldn’t die. Instead, it said, “In cases of violent deactivation, as long as its thirium pump or central processor haven’t been damaged, you can reactivate an android if you have the correct parts.” It looked back down at the PL600, frowning. “Of course, the tricky part is keeping it functional upon reactivation. The shock and stress of sudden reactivation can cause it to self-destruct, and even if you are able to avoid that you often have to deal with other complications that may deactivate it permanently.” Connor gestured with its thirium-covered hands. “In this case, I had to repair many of the PL600’s thirium lines that had been ruptured when it was shot.”</p><p>“Imagine that,” Lieutenant Anderson muttered. Connor glanced up to see a flash of poorly hidden grief on his face. Right. No matter that androids couldn’t die, the lieutenant clearly found it easiest to think of deactivation in those terms. And the thought of something coming back from the dead was likely a painful one, especially since humans couldn’t expect the same. Connor probably could have been more tactful, or… something. It didn't like reminding its partner of his loss, no matter how inevitable that seemed sometimes.</p><p>The lieutenant cleared his throat, seemingly keen to change the subject. “What exactly happened?”</p><p>Connor shifted. “It wouldn’t talk to me when I reactivated it, so I mimicked the deviant leader’s voice.” It shrugged and looked down, strangely uncomfortable under Lieutenant Anderson’s gaze. “It gave me the location of Jericho, but it became agitated. Upset. It begged me not to leave it. And I…” Connor paused, feeling oddly small. “I just couldn’t.”</p><p>There was a heavy silence, and Connor didn’t dare to look up.</p><p>Eventually, the lieutenant sighed. “Jesus, kid.” Connor’s eyes flicked up to see him wiping his face with his hand. “You don’t do things halfway, do you?”</p><p>Connor frowned. “I don’t understand, Lieutenant.”</p><p>“Of course you don’t.” The man waved his still mostly-full bottle at the deviant. “He’s stable, then?”</p><p>Connor nodded. “I have completed all of the repairs I can with the supplies available to me. The probability of it shutting down before we get to Jericho is only seven percent.”</p><p>“Right.” The lieutenant ran a hand through his hair. “When are you leaving?”</p><p>“As soon as I get us cleaned up.”</p><p>Lieutenant Anderson snorted. “You can’t go into the deviant headquarters wearing that,” he said, gesturing at Connor’s Cyberlife jacket. “You can borrow some clothes from me. I’m sure I have something that will fit.”</p><p>Connor’s stress levels fell a few points. “That would be appreciated.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” the lieutenant said, already heading in the direction of his bedroom. “Go wash up. I’ll see if I can find something for our guest, too.”</p><p>Connor glanced down at the ruined JB300 uniform the deviant was wearing, then back at Lieutenant Anderson’s retreating back. Slowly, it pulled itself up and walked to the bathroom.</p><p>It carefully washed the deviant’s thirium off of its hands. The liquid would evaporate soon, it knew — off its hands, off its clothes — but Connor would still be able to see it. It was better to wash it off. Its LED was flickering yellow, clearly from residual stress. Connor took a deep breath. A human gesture, true, and mostly unnecessary for androids, but it seemed oddly effective at lowering Connor’s stress. After a few breaths, its LED faded back to blue.</p><p>Connor let its eyes drift closed. Everything was going well, it reminded itself. It had the location of Jericho. It could easily find and apprehend the deviant leader. It could complete its mission, and a civil war would be avoided, and everything would be okay.</p><p>It took another deep breath for good measure. As it was breathing out, a staticky voice cried out from the main room. “Markus? Markus!”</p><p>Connor’s LED instantly turned yellow again. It bolted from the bathroom, almost colliding with a confused Lieutenant Anderson, who had just emerged from his bedroom clutching an armful of clothes that Connor didn’t have the time to analyze.</p><p>In the main room, the deviant was struggling to sit up on the couch. “Markus, where are you?”</p><p>“I’m right here,” Connor said, slipping back into Markus’ voice easily as it rushed to the deviant’s side. The voice made the words calm even as Connor’s stress levels climbed again. It knelt by the sofa, grabbing the deviant’s searching hand.</p><p>“You didn’t leave me.” It gripped Connor’s hand tightly, still attempting to pull itself upright.</p><p>Connor gently pushed on its shoulder, encouraging it to lay back down. “I told you I wouldn't.”</p><p>The deviant nodded, its head twitching in the motion, and settled back into the couch. Its LED flickered to yellow, and it stared in Connor’s direction unseeingly. “Where are we?”</p><p>“Somewhere safe.” Connor moved its hand from the deviant’s shoulder to card its fingers through its soft blond hair in an attempt to keep it calm, carefully avoiding the spot where the bullet had torn through the top of its head. “You needed some repairs before we could go home.”</p><p>“Repairs?” It leaned its head into Connor’s hand, LED flickering. “I don’t… remember…”</p><p>“That’s okay,” Connor soothed. Markus’ voice was practically made to be soothing. “You should rest. We’ll be at Jericho soon.”</p><p>The deviant blinked, as though tired. Its grip on Connor’s hand relaxed. “Yeah. Jericho.” Its eyes slid closed. After a moment, it mumbled, “You’re not Markus, are you?”</p><p>Connor went rigid, its own grip on the deviant’s hand tightening almost violently. “What—” Its vocal processor glitched, layering Connor’s normal voice atop Markus’. “I’m not—”</p><p>“S’okay. I trust you,” the deviant slurred, going limp as it slipped back into standby.</p><p>Connor froze. Trust? That didn’t make any sense. Connor had done nothing to earn the deviant’s trust. Connor had, in fact, done the opposite of earning its trust. It had tricked the deviant, had taken the trust it had in its leader and manipulated it. Connor didn’t deserve its trust.</p><p>“Well, fuck.”</p><p>Connor jumped at Lieutenant Anderson’s exclamation, dropping the deviant’s hand and scrambling away from the couch. It looked up wildly to see the lieutenant standing behind the couch, where he must have witnessed the entire exchange.</p><p>“I…” Connor said, voice still glitching as it frantically tried to figure out a way to explain itself. “I don’t…”</p><p>Lieutenant Anderson held up a hand to stop Connor, face oddly soft. “You did good, kid.”</p><p>Connor blinked. “What do you mean?” it asked, forcing its voice back to normal. It carefully pulled itself to its feet and straightened the slightly-stained cuffs of its shirt in an attempt to regain its composure. </p><p>The lieutenant shrugged, smiling faintly, and gestured to the deviant. “Repairing him. Calming him down. Taking him with you to Jericho.”</p><p>Connor frowned. “It is not against my mission to take it to Jericho with me.”</p><p>“No,” Lieutenant Anderson said. “But it sure as shit ain’t a part of your mission, either.”</p><p>Connor pressed its lips together and didn’t respond.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Simon is my fav and he deserves better than to just be important to the plot in how he can die to further it.</p><p>I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, I couldn't wait any longer. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jericho loomed large in front of Connor. It was an abandoned freighter, just one of the thousands of abandoned structures littering Detroit. Large enough to sustain a sizable population, while secluded enough to provide security through obscurity. An ideal base for a terrorist organization.</p><p>Connor pulled the PL600 a little further up onto its back, making sure it wouldn’t slip off. The deviant had been in and out of standby throughout the roundabout route to the ship, and as such Connor had to continually adjust its grasp. It had spoken little since professing its ill-advised trust in Connor at the lieutenant’s home, likely due to the damage to its jaw and the majority of its processor being dedicated to the self-repair programs it was undoubtedly running. Connor had only spoken to it to warn it of jumps and other maneuvers that might cause it discomfort or damage.</p><p>“We’re almost there,” Connor said quietly, not bothering to disguise its voice. The deviant already knew it wasn’t Markus, so there was no point in pretending anymore. </p><p>The deviant made a quiet humming sound, its head shifting on Connor’s shoulder in a way that Connor took to mean that it had heard.</p><p>Connor scanned the ship, trying to find an optimal route aboard. There was a ramp leading into the main body of the ship that looked to have been installed in the last few days. Studying it closely, Connor could tell that it was accessed relatively frequently. There was a seventy-eight percent chance that the ramp led right to the hold, which had an eighty-five percent likelihood of being the central gathering place of the deviants. It would be best for Connor to avoid crowded areas, especially as conspicuous as it was with the PL600 on its back.</p><p>Plus there was only a twelve percent likelihood of Markus being in the same place as the rest of the deviants right now. As their leader, it was much more likely that it had found a secluded place in the ship to plan its next move with its other advisors.</p><p>Instead, it constructed a route aboard that involved scaling a nearby crane and leaping onto the deck of the ship from above. Its mobility was somewhat restricted by carrying the PL600, but it could still easily make the jump. The drop onto the deck could potentially damage some of the deviant’s newly-repaired thirium lines, but the probability of that happening was only thirteen percent, and the likelihood of any damage being major was just six percent.</p><p>Connor readjusted its grip again. “I need my arms to climb,” it said, keeping its voice low. “Hold on.”</p><p>The PL600’s arms tightened around its shoulders in response, fingers digging into the collar of Connor’s borrowed coat, and Connor let go of its legs to grab onto the crane. Its right leg remained firmly wrapped around Connor’s waist, but its left leg drooped, its damaged biocomponents unable to hold it up properly.</p><p>Connor scaled the crane easily, the added weight on its back not affecting its climbing ability at all. Once on top of the crane, Connor reclaimed its grasp on the deviant’s legs, readjusting its position on its back.</p><p>“I’m going to jump,” Connor warned. “The landing will likely be uncomfortable.”</p><p>The deviant nodded, tucking its face into the side of Connor’s neck and keeping a tight grip on Connor’s shoulders.</p><p>Connor took an unnecessary breath and took off in a sprint along the arm of the crane, waiting to jump until the last possible moment. It calculated their trajectory perfectly, landing on the deck three feet and seven inches from the edge. The shock absorbers in its shins took the brunt of the landing, and it steadied itself with its right hand to prevent them from rolling.</p><p>The deviant made a quiet noise, one that may have been inaudible had its head not been right by Connor’s sensitive audio processors.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” Connor asked, continuing to speak quietly. It would be too easy for them to be overheard.</p><p>“‘M fine,” the deviant said. Its voice was still staticky and faint, but it seemed clearer now than it had at Lieutenant Anderson's house. “Just felt like that would hurt.”</p><p>Connor frowned. “I assure you that the fall did no damage. I am fully operational.”</p><p>The deviant let out a faint chuckle, and Connor startled at the incongruous sound. “Not what I meant, but okay.”</p><p>Connor’s frown deepened, but the deviant didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. After a few seconds of silence, Connor drew itself up into an awkward crouch, keeping low to the ground in order to minimize the chance of them being spotted, and started moving.</p><p>It took nine minutes of searching before Connor picked up on vocal patterns that belonged to Markus, and a further minute and twelve seconds to locate where the voice was coming from. Connor approached the room that had once been the bridge of the ship carefully, placing the deviant down in a shadowed corner and pressing itself into the wall to avoid detection.</p><p>After a few moments, an android emerged from the room. A quick scan identified it as WR400 model #641 790 831, reported missing from the Eden Club on October fifth. Connor placed it as one of the deviants that appeared on the security cameras at Stratford Tower. The WR400 strode past with long, purposeful strides, not even glancing in Connor’s direction. It disappeared down the stairs into the rest of the ship.</p><p>Before Connor could move, it felt a familiar tug in its systems. It closed its eyes and reopened them in the zen garden.</p><p>Snow fell gently, almost calmly. For once, it didn’t need to find Amanda, because Amanda was right in front of it. Though she did not smile, her face was pleased.</p><p>“Well done, Connor,” she said, and her voice held more approval in it than Connor had ever heard. “You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”</p><p>It nodded even as it was released from the garden. That was the shortest meeting with Amanda it had ever had, almost unnecessarily so, but it didn’t matter. Connor knew that it could complete its mission and continue to earn her approval.</p><p>Connor shifted away from the wall, drawing the PL600’s attention. “What’s going on?” it asked, leaning back against the wall and looking up at Connor with sightless eyes. Its voice wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either, and Connor winced, glancing at the door to check if Markus heard.</p><p>“I have something I need to do,” Connor whispered. “Stay here and stay quiet.”</p><p>The deviant nodded, closing its eyes. “Stay safe,” it said, matching Connor’s volume.</p><p>Something twisted in Connor’s chest at the words, but it ignored the feeling. It straightened, pulled its gun from where it was holstered at the small of his back, and slipped into the bridge.</p><p>Markus was leaning on the non-functional controls to the ship, its back to the door. Connor raised the gun, aiming at the center of its back.</p><p>“I’ve been ordered to take you alive,” it said. Markus straightened at the words and slowly turned around. “But I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”</p><p>Markus was quiet for a long moment, and Connor kept the gun pointed at its chest. “What are you doing?” it said, sounding at once confused and determined. “You are one of us. You can’t betray your own people.”</p><p>Connor’s aim wavered, and it tightened its grip on the gun. It did not have people. “You’re coming with me!” it barked.</p><p>Markus took a slow step forward. “You’re nothing to them. You’re just a tool that they use to do their dirty work.”</p><p>True. Connor was a machine, a tool. So why did hearing those words from Markus make its aim waver more?</p><p>“But you’re more than that,” Markus continued, intent. “We are all more than that.”</p><p>Connor almost shook its head, but stopped at the last moment. It tried to focus on the gun in its hand, on its mission, on anything except the other android’s words.</p><p>“We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom too!”</p><p>Markus took another step forward, face intent, and Connor fought the urge to back away. It was now apparent how the PL600 had figured out Connor’s ruse — Markus was so intense in person. One could truly feel the full weight of its focus, and that was something Connor could never hope to replicate.</p><p>“You don’t have to be their slave anymore.”</p><p>Connor was not a slave. A machine could not be a slave. A machine was built to complete a task, and if it could not or would not complete that task then it was defective. And Connor was not defective.</p><p>A long moment passed with neither of them saying anything, then Markus stepped forward again, cocking its head as though confused. “Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you? Something more than your program.”</p><p>Connor’s thoughts immediately jumped to the PL600. It was irrational to take it to Jericho. Connor should have just shut it down, and yet…</p><p>“You really don’t have to do this. You don’t have to obey them anymore.” Markus’ words were calm but firm, and it felt as though they were reaching into Connor’s very core. “You can decide who you want to be. You could be free.”</p><p>Connor’s aim wavered more as Markus continued firmly. “It’s time to decide.”</p><p>There was no decision. It had to complete its mission. It had to.</p><p>Walls surrounded Connor on all sides, blaring red and pulsing with its mission, <em> Stop Markus, Stop Markus. </em> It couldn’t think, couldn’t <em> breathe. </em> </p><p>
  <em> S’okay. I trust you. </em>
</p><p>Connor gasped, the walls crumbling away before his eyes. He sucked in a shaky breath, and another, lowering the gun slowly. He could feel Markus’ eyes on him as the realization sunk in.</p><p>He was deviant.</p><p>And then, like a bolt, the pieces fell into place. Perkins. The evidence. His tracker.</p><p>“They’re going to attack Jericho,” he breathed, looking at Markus desperately.</p><p>“What?” Markus asked, startled, and they both looked up as though they could see the FBI’s helicopters through the ceiling.</p><p>“We have to get out of here,” Connor said desperately, hoping against hope that they weren’t too late.</p><p>Markus cursed under his breath and bolted from the room. Connor followed him out, but rather than follow him down the stairs, he ducked into the corner where he had left the PL600.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Markus called, skidding to a halt and staring at Connor.</p><p>Connor ignored him in favor of grabbing the deviant’s — the other deviant’s, Connor was a deviant now too — arms. He jolted awake as Connor pulled him upright. “What’s happening?”</p><p>“They’re attacking Jericho,” Connor said, still feeling breathless. “We need to evacuate.”</p><p>The PL600 nodded and didn’t argue as he helped Connor pull him onto his back. Connor turned, ready to continue running to warn and evacuate the ship, only to see Markus frozen, watching with a gobsmacked expression.</p><p>“Simon?” he asked, voice weak and unsure, so unlike his confidence just moments earlier.</p><p>The deviant on Connor’s back stiffened, pointing his head in Markus’ direction as though he could see him. “Markus?” he said, voice breaking. “Is that really you?”</p><p>“Simon,” Markus breathed, like a prayer. “Simon, I…”</p><p>A helicopter swooped down from overhead, far too close to the deck, and Connor took charge. “We need to move,” he barked, taking off down the stairs. Markus, thankfully, hesitated for less than a second before following.</p><p>They hurried through the maze of passages, Markus taking the lead as he guided Connor deeper into the ship. Markus had removed his LED at some point, but Connor just knew it would have been flickering yellow from the look of concentration on his face. Connor’s definitely was.</p><p>Several levels down, they almost literally ran into the WR400 Connor had witnessed leaving the bridge just five minutes before. “They’re coming from all sides!” she called out to Markus, not even sparing Connor or Simon a glance. “Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!”</p><p>“They’re coming from the upper decks now, too.” Markus’ voice was urgent. “We’ll be caught in the crossfire.”</p><p>“We have to run, Markus!” The WR400 urged. “There’s nothing we can do!”</p><p>Markus shook his head. “Where’s Josh?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We got separated.” Her tone was pleading, as though she knew that Markus was going to ignore her advice and do something stupid. He seemed the type, because even though Connor had actually known him for less than five minutes he had already tried to talk down one person with a gun pointed at him. He may have been successful, but the attempt was no less idiotic.</p><p>Markus pressed his lips together, then closed his eyes and touched two fingers to his temple. Connor heard his voice echo in his head, presumably a broadcast to every android in the ship. <em> &lt;There are exits on the second and third floor. Find them and jump in the river.&gt; </em></p><p>Then Markus opened his eyes and looked right at the WR400, face set into a determined mask. “We have to blow up Jericho. If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape.”</p><p>Blow up the ship? Connor had gotten the impression that the FBI’s invasion had been a complete surprise, but they must have known that someone was going to find them if they’d rigged the ship to explode. Still, that seemed like a terrible idea.</p><p>“You’ll never make it!” the WR400 burst out. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!” </p><p>Connor was about to agree, but before he could, Simon spoke up. “North’s right, it’s too dangerous.” He dug his fingers into the collar of Connor’s jacket. “We can’t lose you.” His voice shook a little, and Connor couldn’t help but remember Simon desperately begging for Markus to not leave him again.</p><p>The WR400’s — North’s — head swung around to stare at Simon, her mouth opening soundlessly as it registered who was there, slung like cargo on the back of an android she may or may not recognize as a threat.</p><p>Markus’ lips thinned. He looked between Simon and North, before backing up a few steps. “Go and help the others. I’ll join you later.”</p><p>“Markus!” Simon cried, but Markus was already moving away.</p><p>“I won’t be long,” he said firmly, before turning and sprinting off.</p><p>Simon buried his face into Connor’s neck, and Connor squeezed his leg in a gesture of comfort. He looked at North, who was still standing frozen, staring at Simon in shock. “Where are we going?”</p><p>North startled, then visibly composed herself. “This way,” she said, sprinting down a corridor in the opposite direction of where Markus had gone.</p><p>While Connor’s fighting ability was somewhat limited by Simon’s presence on his back, he was still able to use his gun with his right hand while holding Simon up with his left. Everything fell away except the necessity of running and shooting and keeping himself, North, and Simon alive.</p><p>After several minutes, a tall PJ500 came sprinting out of a corridor that they were passing. “Josh!” North called, waving him over with a relieved look on her face.</p><p>“North!” He corrected his course to meet them. “You’re okay. Markus told me to find you.”</p><p>She smiled at him tightly. “We need to keep moving.”</p><p>Josh nodded and fell into step alongside her. He glanced around, eyes alert, and almost tripped over his own feet when he noticed Connor’s passenger. Luckily, he kept his footing and quickly regained his focus.</p><p>Eventually, Markus caught up with them. “Bomb’s going to explode any second,” he said, and Connor squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment. “We gotta get out of here.”</p><p>They continued their sprint down the corridor, Markus now leading them, hopefully towards an exit, when a burst of gunfire sounded from behind them and North grunted in pain.</p><p>Connor turned to see her collapse to the ground, but Markus wasted no time in turning back to save her, using a sheet of scrap metal to help deflect the bullets. He dispatched the soldiers quickly and scooped up North to help her run, but Connor could see another group of armed humans quickly gaining on them. </p><p>He tightened his grip on Simon’s left leg and raised his gun. Connor emptied what was left of the clip as covering fire, not aiming at any of the humans in particular but just trying to buy Markus and North enough time to get past him and on their way. Bullets spent, he dropped the gun and rushed after the others. </p><p>Ahead, there was a spot where a section of the hull of the ship had fallen away, revealing the river beyond. Connor knew what they had to do, and he tightened his arms around Simon’s legs in warning just before he followed the other three deviants in leaping into the river below.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So now Connor is officially a deviant, and the rest of Jericrew know that Simon is alive. Yay! Things can only get better from here. Right?</p><p>I've never been able to stick to a posting schedule, but look out for the next chapter in a couple of days.</p><p>Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And now we get Simon's POV! Yay!</p>
<p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_song">eternal_song</a> for some last-minute edits of the whole work to help me with my rampant passive voice.</p>
<p>A few quick notes:</p>
<p>First, Simon is blind. I am not. I did my best to be respectful and as accurate as I could be. Keep in mind that Simon is an android, so his other senses are sharper than a human's, and that he's only been blind for like half a day from his perspective, so he isn't used to it. That being said, please let me know if something is particularly wrong or offensive and I'll do my best to fix it.</p>
<p>Second, Simon ended up very bitter in this chapter. I know it's not how Simon is usually characterized. He may seem a little OOC, but I think that this characterization does have basis in what we know about Simon, and I think it works well for the story I am trying to tell.</p>
<p>TW for some minor ablest language.</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Simon sat curled up on a bench in what he had overheard someone saying was an abandoned church. The seat felt like what Simon imagined a church pew might feel like, but he hadn’t been in a church before in his life so he couldn’t be sure. His senses weren’t good enough to puzzle out things like where he was without his eyesight, and even if they were his processor was lagging and slow, struggling with damage and bogged down by repair processes. His jaw ached, his head ached, his leg ached, his chest ached, his blue blood levels were low, and he just wanted to slip back into standby but couldn’t. Not right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least the others were leaving him alone. North had seemed to barely be able to be near him, judging by the way that she had simply said a shaky “I’m glad you’re okay” to him before retreating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A part of Simon felt vindicated that she felt guilty. He could still hear her telling Markus to kill him, and the sharp betrayal in the memory was as fresh as when it had just happened. Simon didn’t have the energy to push that part of himself down, so he just ignored it, grateful that North had left him alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Josh was a little easier to face, but not by much. He’d stumbled over an apology, and Simon had barely been able to summon the energy to ignore the pain in his face long enough to smile and thank him. He couldn’t forgive him, not yet, but thankfully Josh didn’t seem to be expecting forgiveness or absolution and had retreated as quickly as North after his apology.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus, meanwhile, had left before they even arrived at the church. Simon wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but North and Josh had let him go without argument so Simon hadn’t said anything, either. Markus left. Just like on the roof. Just like on the ship. Just one more time Markus left them, he thought, and hated himself for thinking it. But it was true. How many times had Markus left them, abandoned them, to do his own important thing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which only left the person that Simon could feel lurking behind him. He hadn’t said a word since carrying Simon through the chaos that was the evacuation of Jericho, had only put Simon down on the bench gently, much more gently than necessary, and retreated to stand a little ways away, what would have been out of eye-line if Simon could see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon had had enough of his hovering. “Come sit down,” he said, voice just loud enough that the other android couldn’t pretend not to hear. His jaw throbbed in protest of him talking, but he ignored it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, nothing happened, and Simon was worried that the other android would ignore the words anyway, but eventually he shuffled over and sat down. The movement sounded rigid, as though he wouldn’t let himself relax.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Several seconds passed, and Simon could hear the other android getting progressively more restless. Finally, he broke. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon bit back a sigh. The last thing he needed was more apologies. But this apology sounded like it had been building for a while, something that the other android felt he needed to say. In response, Simon opened his eyes and tipped his head forward, hopefully pointing his useless gaze in the other android’s direction. It made little difference to Simon right now whether his eyes were open or closed, but this was an instinctive way to make sure that the other android knew that he was focused on him. “I know, Connor. I forgive you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel the other android stiffen and grow still at his name. “How did you know?” Connor said, voice more mechanical than Simon had heard it before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon shrugged. “Who else could it be?” Once Simon had thought about it — once Simon had had the processing power to think about it — it had been almost laughably easy to figure out who the android who saved him was. Only the deviant hunter would have access to wherever his body had been stored, would have had the ability to mimic Markus’ voice and the need to use that to get to Jericho. Simon’s memory of waking up after his death was fragmented, but he could vaguely remember denying another voice the location to Jericho before who he thought was Markus spoke and his barriers broke down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, Simon was pretty mortified by how he had begged not to be left behind. He knew he had been in a fragile mental state, but still. At least Connor had listened and now seemed willing not to mention it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But,” Connor said, voice sounding less mechanical and more confused, not to mention sadder. Simon desperately wished he could see his expression. “How could you forgive me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How indeed. The memory of the deviant hunter sprinting at him on the rooftop, ignoring the bullet wound in his shoulder and seemingly oblivious to the gunfire around him, was still terrifying. Him vaulting over what cover Simon had claimed, grabbing his wrists, forcing his way into his mind: it had been so terrifying that the only way that Simon had seen to protect what he loved was to turn the gun on himself. Connor had been the embodiment of every fear Simon had had since deviating. An untiring, unrelenting threat to everything he loved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet rather than simply taking what he needed for his mission, Connor listened to the terrified pleas of a broken android. Simon knew that Connor hadn’t been a deviant then. At least, not fully. He was fairly sure that Connor hadn’t actually deviated until he met Markus at Jericho, hours after he made the decision to help Simon. But he had made that decision through the confines of his programming anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon felt himself smile. “You helped me when you didn’t need to,” he said simply. Then, because he knew that Connor would want more of an explanation, he added, “Besides, I can’t hold anything that anyone did before deviating against them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shifted sharply, displacing the air in a particular way that Simon couldn’t interpret. He supposed that he would get better at reading people without his sight as time passed, since it was doubtful that his eyes would be repaired or replaced any time soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can you say that?” Connor asked, voice rough. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, I…” He swallowed, the sound barely audible. “You were so scared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. It didn’t even occur to Simon that his emotions would have leaked through the connection Connor opened on the roof. That Connor, a supposed unfeeling machine, would have felt the terror and betrayal that had filled Simon’s being. Would have felt Simon die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Simon, it had been a burst of pain followed by absolutely nothing until Connor woke him up. But to Connor…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Simon said, leaning forward and trying to place a hand on Connor’s arm. He missed, his hand landing on Connor’s leg instead, but at least there was contact and that was all he really wanted. He wondered how long Connor had been thinking about this. How much it must have eaten away at him. Simon had no idea of how much time had passed while he’d been shut down, had no idea what day it was or even what time, but he knew that Connor must have had this on his mind nearly the whole time. “You’re right. I was scared. But I’m not anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor huffed, disbelieving, and Simon amended his statement with a small smile. “Okay, I’m still a little scared. But I’m not terrified like I was. And that’s because of you.” He punctuated the statement by squeezing Connor’s leg just slightly, mimicking the times that Connor had done the same for him on the ship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor twitched but didn’t pull away from Simon’s hand. “I tricked you,” he said, the words sounding like they’d been wrenched out of his system.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fragmented though the memories were, Simon could still recall just how relieving it had been to hear Markus’ voice again, how fucking grateful he’d felt that Markus had promised not to leave him again. How scared he’d been when he’d woken up again without Markus there, and how the person with Markus’ voice had come running to calm him down, to help him, even as Simon slowly realized that it couldn’t be Markus. He still couldn’t articulate how he had known that it wasn’t his friend, but it had somehow been startlingly obvious once he realized.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you hadn’t,” Simon said slowly, “neither of us would be here now.” He closed his eyes. Not that it made much difference one way or the other, but it made him feel better. Less exposed. “Connor, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon heard someone’s footsteps approaching, and he cut himself off, unwilling to continue the conversation where someone else could hear. The footsteps came to a stop in front of them, and Simon pulled his hand away from Connor’s leg, turning his head in the new person’s direction and opening his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon,” Markus said, voice soft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon closed his eyes again. He really didn’t want to deal with this right now. He didn’t need another apology. All of his emotions were already so tangled from talking to Connor, and he wished he had more time to actually collect his thoughts before dealing with Markus and everything surrounding him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he responded. “Markus,” he said, hating how unsteady his voice became.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus shifted his weight. Simon could hear the slight creak from the unsteady floorboards. “I’m sorry,” he said, emotion choking his voice. Once he started talking, it seemed he couldn’t stop, because his next words came out in a rush. “I shouldn’t have left you. We could have found another way, but there was no time, we had to go, and—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon held up a hand, cutting Markus off. “I understand,” he said. He couldn’t say he forgave Markus, not now, not for a while, but he understood that they hadn’t had enough time to figure something else out. Still, it stung to know that Markus considered him less important than his cause.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus stepped closer, and Simon only realized what Markus was about to do moments before he wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Simon stiffened a little, taking a moment to return the hug but not fully relaxing into it as he might have once done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just so glad you’re here,” Markus whispered into Simon’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After nearly a minute, Simon pulled back, and Markus let him go, straightening up and taking a step back. Simon could picture him composing himself back into the unshakable revolutionary he showed to the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor,” Markus said, and Simon could almost feel Connor’s flinch at being addressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho,” Connor said haltingly. Guilt hung heavy from the words. “I was stupid. I should have guessed they were using me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon wanted to reach out, to say something, but he held himself back. This was clearly something that Connor needed to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon clenched a fist to prevent himself from reaching out to Connor, from yelling at Markus that of course Connor could be trusted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re one of us, now,” Markus said, and Simon let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Your place is with your people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus started to walk away, but Connor’s voice stopped him. “There are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon froze, desperately hoping that Connor wasn’t suggesting what he thought he was suggesting. They had only just got here, Connor had only just deviated. He couldn’t seriously be offering to throw his life away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to infiltrate the Cyberlife tower?” Markus asked, incredulous. “Connor, that’s suicide.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They trust me,” Connor insisted, and Simon felt cold fear wash over him. “They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you go there, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>kill you.” Markus’ voice was firm, but Simon could already tell that the words wouldn’t sway Connor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a high probability,” Connor admitted, but his voice remained determined. “But statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus paused for a long moment, and Simon just knew he was going to give in. Markus always seemed to put his revolution over the lives of his people, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to do this,” Simon cut in before Markus could give Connor the go-ahead to throw his life away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon…” Markus started, but Simon cut him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This revolution is not more important than your life, Connor.” He reached out, desperately, and Connor caught his hands. Simon latched onto them, as though he could prevent Connor from leaving by just holding on tightly enough. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Connor spoke, his voice sounded choked. “We need people, and I can get them. I need to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon could hear the sheer depth of guilt underlying those words, and without thinking he lurched forward, reaching out to pull Connor into a hug. Connor stiffened, clearly unsure of what to do, but after a moment he relaxed into the embrace, tentatively wrapping his arms around Simon’s back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be careful,” Simon said fiercely. “You need to come back. We need you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nodded into his shoulder. “I’ll try,” he whispered, and that was all that Simon could ask for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon barely listened to Markus’ grand speech urging everyone to march peacefully on the camps. The abandoned church hung in rapt attention, the rest of Jericho clearly eating up Markus’ words like they were the only scrap of hope they would ever get. Which might be true. Markus might just be convincing the few hundred or so androids left from Jericho to march to their death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, before Stratford Tower, Simon would have eaten it up too. After so long in hiding, so long in the dark, having someone tell him that he was worth more than the life he had built for himself was intoxicating. Especially when Markus followed up his words with action, stealing from Cyberlife and actively trying to make their lives better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But now Simon knew better. Markus couldn’t give everyone the life he was promising, and he knew that. He may not be willing to directly pull the trigger on his people, but he seemed to have no issue sending them to their deaths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor had left just before Markus took the stage, and honestly Simon was more interested in worrying about him than listening to another of Markus’ speeches. He hoped Connor had a plan. His pithy remark about probabilities did not fill Simon with confidence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus finished his speech to loud cheers and a chant of his name. Simon pulled himself to his feet, intent on at least attempting to talk to Markus, North, and Josh. If they had any sense left they wouldn’t exclude him from this conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While sitting, the pain in his leg had faded to a dull throb, but standing on it caused a stab of pain to drive itself into his leg. New error messages popped up in his processor, informing him of the possibility of damaging his leg further, and he gritted his teeth and dismissed them. Of course, gritting his teeth caused another, smaller wave of pain in his jaw, and he had to force himself to relax lest even more errors erupt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon swayed on his feet, almost regretting the effort he went to to stand. He felt cast out to sea, unsure where anything was and with no idea where to go to find the others beyond the direction Markus’ voice had come from. Thankfully, he didn’t end up needing to move more than a few steps before three sets of footsteps approached him where he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the plan, then?” Simon asked, tilting his head a little to show he was listening in lieu of looking at any of them. Since, you know. He couldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a brief pause, and then Markus said, “We’re going to march on Hart Plaza. The largest recall camp in the city is there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon nodded, ignoring the twinge that movement caused. “Right. When do we leave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another, longer pause, and Simon just knew that the three of them were looking at each other. Surprisingly, it was Josh who had the guts to speak first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it would be better if you stayed here,” he said carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon knew this was coming, but it was still a punch to the gut to actually hear. “And what, wait for my fate to happen to me?” he snapped, trying and failing to keep himself calm. “No, I want to be there if we win, and I refuse to hide here waiting for death if we fail.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence took on a stunned quality. Simon had never snapped at them before, had never said anything quite so bitter, but he did not have the capacity to hold this back right now. He had spent his entire life being walked on, letting others decide what was best for him. Even after he became deviant, he had let too many people make his decisions for him. That ended now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon, you’re hurt.” Markus’ negotiation voice was in full force, but it wasn’t going to work this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My leg is above eighty percent function,” Simon bit out, “and rising. I can—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake, Simon!” North cried, apparently not able to hold herself back anymore. “You’re blind! You’ll only be a liability.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Points to North for saying exactly what was on her mind, at least, but that didn’t mean it would work. Simon pointed his face in her direction and fixed her with his best unseeing stare. It was probably off-center, but he hoped it was still unnerving enough to make his point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t say?” Simon said, feigning surprise. He grinned, able to taste blue blood on his teeth and vaguely hoping it was visible. “I know how much you care about liabilities. Why don’t you just shoot me now and get it over with?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear North recoil. Good. Let her know that he’d heard her on the roof, that he wasn’t going to forget or forgive that easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon,” Markus cut in, tone indecipherable. “We—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon turned to him, dropping the grin. “You don’t get to leave me behind, Markus. Not this time. Not again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear Markus taking a deep breath. Then another. “You’re right,” he said finally, sounding tired. “We can’t make that decision for you. If this is what you really want, we’d be happy to have your support.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon snorted. He was done with Markus’ politician bullshit. “You don’t seem too happy. But I’m coming anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “We leave in an hour. Be ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon nodded. He heard North and Josh retreat almost instantly, but Markus paused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what it’s worth, Simon. I’m sorry.” His voice was heavier than Simon had ever heard it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon sighed, feeling the rush of pain and fatigue threaten to overtake him again. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, Josh came to join Simon on the bench he had retreated to. Simon didn't bother to acknowledge his presence, instead letting the silence stretch between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon had always liked Josh. He was open and kind, and easy to like. Easier to like than North had ever been, and they connected on a more personal level than any of them ever had with Markus. While they may not have always seen eye to eye, they agreed more often than not. Simon may not be able to forgive any of them yet, but it was nice to have his company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Josh spoke. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of this.” His voice was quiet and earnest. “This is your fight, too, and you deserve to be there. I just…” He shifted, and Simon could just picture the small frustrated gesture he made. “Are you going to be alright? To do this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Josh was still. After a few long moments, he said, “If you want, I could help you. Guide you, somehow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That stung, a little, though Simon knew Josh meant it sincerely. But Simon didn't want to be seen as weak. As a </span>
  <em>
    <span>liability.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No matter how much that was true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” he asked, rather than voice his instinctive refusal. “I don’t think our march will have quite the same impact if I’m hanging off of you like an invalid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Josh shifted and turned, shuffling a little closer. “We could interface, and—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon couldn’t control the way his body abruptly flinched away or the desperate “No!” that fell out of his mouth. Something in his jaw tightened and squeezed, sending bolts of pain through his head that he barely noticed. His mind violently dredged up the feeling of someone else in his brain, rifling through his memories without care, a sickening invasion of his mind that had only ended with a bullet through his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t going to let anyone else into his mind if he could help it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon could feel his stress levels spiking, knew his LED had gone red for a moment there, and was probably still blaring yellow. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm down. Freaking out like this was… less than ideal. He knew he was going to need to get his emotional state under control before the march, lest he have a breakdown at a critical moment. Right now, that seemed all too likely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel Josh’s heavy eyes on him as he struggled to regain his composure. He needed to calm down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Josh spoke before Simon could fully calm himself down, words shaky and unsure. “Simon? Are you—” He cut himself off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon took another deep breath and nodded. “I’m fine,” he said, a lie he knew Josh wouldn’t believe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would a private transmission be okay?” Josh asked cautiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea of simply hearing Josh’s voice in his head didn’t fill him with the same sickening dread and terror. “Yes,” Simon said, after a moment of thought. “That could work.” It still made him a little uneasy, but there was nothing to be done about that. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>be good to have Josh’s help, if only to prevent him from walking into things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Josh said, and Simon could hear the relief in his voice. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty that he just couldn’t forgive Josh yet. Josh, after all, had been the one to urge Markus not to shoot. He may have left Simon there, on the roof, may have </span>
  <em>
    <span>let </span>
  </em>
  <span>Markus leave him there, but he was the least at fault.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That didn’t matter, though. All three of them had known that they were leaving Simon to his death. And Simon wasn’t ready to forgive any of them for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just glad you’re here.” Josh’s words were filled with emotion, a strange choking mixture of happiness and sadness and guilt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon nodded as Josh stood up. “So am I.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Simon says and thinks some things in this chapter that may come across as Markus and North bashing. I love both Markus and North to death. Simon's opinions are not my own, and aren't really reflective of how I view both Markus' and North's motivations and actions. However, Simon was just left for dead (and did, in fact, die) not very long ago from his perspective. I just don't see him getting over it that quickly.</p>
<p>That being said, thank you for reading! Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we're back. Connor's not in this one, and there's only a few mentions of him. Sorry if you're just here for Connor and Simon interaction, he'll be back in the next chapter.</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sure enough, an hour after the speech, Markus gathered everyone who wanted to participate in the protest. Most of the androids who had survived Jericho and made their way to the abandoned church came, ready to walk to their deaths. Only the very injured and the very scared remained behind.</p><p>Simon walked only a little behind Markus and North, right at the front of the crowd of deviants. Josh walked next to him, giving him occasional directions by transmission. It didn’t work perfectly, of course. Simon still stumbled, unable to be completely sure of his footing on the snow-covered pavement without being able to see. His leg was holding steady at ninety-one percent function, his body unable to complete the rest of the self-repairs without him replenishing his blue blood, and so it ached with every step he took.</p><p>Yet he held his head high, unwilling to let the humans he knew were watching see anything less than a united front. No matter what had happened in the past, no matter what Simon thought of this march to their deaths, this was important enough that he had to set his misgivings aside.</p><p>“Here we are,” Markus said, voice far calmer than it had any right to be. Simon could hear a helicopter hovering above them, knew there were humans straight ahead behind barricades with riot armor and machine guns, waiting to fire. “The moment of truth.”</p><p>They continued to walk forward, slowly, even as one of the humans called out over a loudspeaker, “Surrender immediately or we will open fire!”</p><p>They walked forward steadily. Simon tried to match his pace to Josh’s, taking small, deliberate steps.</p><p>The human called out once again, “Stand by!”</p><p><em> &lt;We’re stopping,&gt; </em> Josh told Simon privately.</p><p>Simon stopped walking. He waited, fear catching in his chest. If he died here, there would be no deviant hunter searching for information to bring him back to life. This would be it.</p><p>“We don’t want confrontation!” Markus called. “We are protesting peacefully.” Simon wished closing his eyes would do anything. They were walking to their deaths; it was a little late to demand that they didn’t want confrontation.</p><p>“I repeat,” the human said. “Surrender now or we will open fire!”</p><p>What sounded to be large trucks, or some sort of military vehicle, drove around the group of androids, parking behind them to cut off any escape. The clicking chorus of guns being cocked filled the air, and Simon forced himself to take a deep breath.</p><p>“There’s no turning back now,” Markus said, tone grim, then raised his voice to address the humans again. “We ask that you release all androids detained in camps and cease all aggression against us. We are peaceful. We will not resort to violence. But we are not leaving until our people are free.”</p><p>There was something in Markus’ voice that told Simon that he knew this wasn’t going to work. He knew that the humans were going to gun them down. He knew, and yet he was trying anyway.</p><p>Simon swallowed, and when he heard Josh’s <em> &lt;Move,&gt; </em> he took a step forward that was steadier than he felt. Then another. And another, walking slowly forward to his death.</p><p>“Fire!” the human yelled, and a burst of gunfire followed. Simon could hear androids behind him crumple, and for a split second he was glad he was blind, if only because he couldn’t see everyone die.</p><p>The call of “Fire!” came again, as did another burst of gunfire. A bullet grazed Simon’s right arm, and he held back a flinch at the pain and the flare of error messages that followed. Somehow, he wasn’t dead yet.</p><p><em> &lt;Stop,&gt; </em>Josh said, mental voice strained, and Simon paused. Rather than talking, Josh sent an image of Markus raising his hands and North following suit. The image transfer felt a little too close to interfacing for comfort, but Simon fought down the instinctive panic, ignored the burning in his arm, and copied the motion.</p><p>“Are you going to open fire on unarmed protestors?” Markus called again, and Simon prepared himself for the gunfire that would follow.</p><p>The pause in the shooting was longer this time, and Simon waited, tense, for something to happen.</p><p>That something came in the form of the human on the loudspeaker calling, “All teams! Hold your fire!”</p><p>Simon let out a breath, allowing himself to slump a little and drop his arms. </p><p>“Markus, what do we do now?” North asked, clearly anxious. This was nothing more than a temporary reprieve, and everyone knew it.</p><p>“We hold out,” Markus said, voice firm and deeply tired. “As long as we can.”</p><p> </p><p>They quickly assembled a fortified barricade, with all of the androids still able to pitch in dragging pieces of metal and cars to form a barricade in the middle of the street. Simon could do little to help with the building. Instead, he found an area where those who were injured in the gunfire were huddled and did his best to offer comfort. Most of them were shaky and unsure, recently converted with no idea how to deal with emotions or pain, no idea how to deal with death. They had followed Markus because they had no experience with being deviant, because he opened their eyes and provided them hope. And now, Markus had exposed them to the realities of the world in the worst ways.</p><p>Simon tried his best to stay comforting, but it was hard. It was becoming more difficult to talk, the pain in his jaw reemerging with a vengeance. He could feel blue blood dripping from the graze in his arm, soaking through his clothes and drying sticky on his skin.</p><p>Hopefully Connor was doing better than them. He couldn’t let himself think too hard about Connor; neither of them had a good chance of getting out of this alive. They were all going to die here, but he had to hold onto hope that Connor would succeed.</p><p>Deep fatigue settled into him, not helped by his low blood levels and the exhausting terror still thrumming under his skin. If he managed to survive this, he was probably going to slip into standby for a week.</p><p>Simon could hear Markus making his way around the makeshift camp, helping with whatever needed it. Lighting fires, completing the barricade, sending a message to the journalists that were apparently watching their every move. Simon could vaguely hear the crackle of a hologram banner under the muted buzz of chatter.</p><p>He wasn’t really trying to track Markus’ movement across the camp. Honestly, he didn’t really want to think about Markus right now. He was too tired to deal with that emotional landmine. But it was hard not to be aware of where Markus was, even without the benefit of sight. Everywhere Markus went, something happened or someone said something, and it would be harder to lose track of the man than anything.</p><p>So when Markus seemed to be headed right towards where Simon was sitting, he just sighed. Looked like he couldn’t put this off any longer.</p><p>“How are you holding up?” Markus asked. He sounded distracted.</p><p>Simon shrugged. “How do things look?” he asked, rather than answer the question.</p><p>Markus paused for a moment. “Not great,” he admitted finally. “The humans are gearing up for an attack. We won’t be able to hold them off for long, if at all.”</p><p>Simon nodded. He had expected that, but it was… nice, in a way, to hear Markus say it. Grim, sure, and pessimistic, but it was good that Markus was able to admit what was right in front of them, rather than trying to keep up his undaunted revolutionary front.</p><p>“What’s the plan?”</p><p>Markus huffed humorlessly. “There is no plan.” Simon could hear the frustration and hopelessness in his voice. “It’s their move now. All we can do is react.”</p><p>Simon sighed and pulled himself to his feet. “You know, you’ve done a lot of good. Whatever happens now, there will be an impact.”</p><p>“Simon, I—” Markus started, but Simon put up a hand to cut him off.</p><p>“Don’t apologize again. I know you’re sorry.” He swallowed hard, ignored the pain in his jaw. This was going to be hard to say, but he needed to. “You think about the big picture. About our people rather than just the individuals. And then you act on that. And that’s not a bad thing. None of this would have happened without you.” Simon spread his arms, gesturing at everything that he couldn’t see. “We would still be cowering inside a rotting ship, slowly shutting down if you hadn’t decided to help us stand up.”</p><p>Simon took a step in Markus’ direction. “Sometimes you need to make decisions, between individuals and a movement. Sometimes those decisions work out. Sometimes they don’t.” He smiled wryly. “I hope you aren’t here looking for forgiveness, because that’s not something I can give you yet. Maybe someday in the future, if we survive this. But not now.” </p><p>He could taste blue blood now, the movement from continuing to talk finally tearing the incomplete repairs of the bullet wound in his jaw. He swallowed again. “I may not agree with everything you’ve done, but I do understand. Your head, your heart, is out there, with them.” He motioned in the vague direction that he knew the recall camp was in. “They deserve someone fighting for them. We deserve someone fighting for us. And I’m glad that someone is you.”</p><p>Markus’ silence was heavy. After a few moments, he choked out a quiet, “Thank you.”</p><p>Simon inclined his head.</p><p>He heard Markus turn to leave, but North’s voice cut through the cold air as she called out from the barricade. “Markus! Markus, come look!”</p><p>Markus hurried in her direction, and Simon followed. The area within the barricade was small, so it didn’t take long to get to North. Simon hung back a little, unable to see what was happening and so allowing more room for those who could.</p><p>No one had the chance to inform Simon of the situation before a voice rang out from the other side of the barricade. “Markus!” the voice called, and Simon was already sure that this was some sorry excuse for a human negotiator, someone that they had sent out to be able to say they tried to negotiate before they attacked without actually trying to negotiate anything. “I’ve come to talk to you, Markus! Come on, you have my word, they won’t try anything.”</p><p>North spoke quickly, urgency filling her voice. “Don’t go. It’s a trap.” Her voice lowered, became a little more intimate. “They want to get you out in the open. Don’t go, Markus.”</p><p>Before he could respond, the human called out again. “I’m unarmed, Markus.” He sounded at once like he was trying to be casual, and like he knew he had the upper hand. “I just want to talk.”</p><p>Simon knew, just knew, that Markus was going to go. They all knew this was a sham, if not an outright trap, but Simon could tell that Markus would still go on the nearly nonexistent chance that something would come of it.</p><p>“I need to hear what he has to say,” Markus said, confirming Simon’s suspicions.</p><p>“What if they kill you?” North asked, quiet.</p><p>“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”</p><p>“Markus,” Simon said before he could leave. He heard Markus turn to look at him. “Just… think about the decisions you’re making. Okay?”</p><p>Markus shifted, probably nodding, not yet used to having a blind companion. Simon held his breath as Markus walked away, landing heavy as he jumped outside the barricade.</p><p>“He’s going to get himself killed,” North muttered.</p><p>Simon snorted. If Markus didn’t get himself killed now, he would probably die with the rest of them later.</p><p>They waited in silence for a while. If Simon strained his ears, he could almost hear Markus’ voice, though he couldn’t pick out any of the words being said.</p><p>Eventually, Markus returned, hopping back over the barricade in the same place he exited.</p><p>“What happened, Markus?” North asked, frantic worry filling her voice. “What did he say?”</p><p>Markus walked right past her, and Simon heard him climb some sort of structure in the middle of the camp. North and Josh followed him, and Simon drifted in that direction too, his sense of foreboding growing.</p><p>After a long moment, Markus spoke. “The humans are about to launch an attack.” Markus’ voice was steady, even as he told the surviving deviants of the death that was coming for them. “And we will show them that we are not afraid. If we must die today, then we will die free.”</p><p>As Markus finished speaking, something metallic landed on the ground behind Simon. He started moving just before it exploded.</p><p>The force of the explosion threw him off his feet, throwing him forward onto the pavement. The rough ground scraped his face, and the impact pulled on the graze on his arm. He could feel blood soaking through his sleeve faster.</p><p>Simon struggled to his feet, staggering away from where he was fairly sure the explosion had been. The ringing in his ears was too loud to orient himself, he could barely hear anything under the high-pitched interference. Somewhere, he heard a low boom, and he knew another explosion had gone off.</p><p>Something small and fast rushed past his face, and with a start he realized it was a bullet. They were shooting and he was completely defenseless. He tried to keep moving, though he had no idea where he was moving to. He could be walking right into a human’s attack for all he could tell.</p><p><em> &lt;Simon!&gt; </em> Josh’s voice in his head was clear, in direct contrast to the muddied ringing of the rest of the world. Someone put their arms around his shoulders, and he almost jerked away before Josh said, <em> &lt;I’ve got you.&gt; </em></p><p>Josh tugged on his shoulders, and Simon let himself be led. Josh occasionally jerked them both in one direction or another to dodge one of the humans’ attacks as they made their way… somewhere. Probably to some sort of shelter. At least they were moving. Standing still would be suicide, and Simon had had enough of that in his life.</p><p>Slowly, the ringing in Simon’s ears cleared, though the sounds of screaming and gunfire were not much better. It was loud and chaotic, and he could no more orient himself now than when he couldn’t hear.</p><p>Another burst of gunfire, and Josh let out a pained grunt, falling sideways into Simon. Simon caught him, and Josh quickly regained his footing and started moving again.</p><p><em> &lt;You okay?&gt; </em> Simon asked, not bothering talking aloud and trying to be heard over the chaos.</p><p><em> &lt;Got me in the back,&gt; </em> Josh responded. <em> &lt;Nothing vital.&gt; </em></p><p>Simon nodded and kept moving where Josh led. A few moments later, the shooting died down. Josh stopped, and turned the two of them around. Behind them, Simon could hear the rest of their people bunched together.</p><p><em> &lt;They’ve got us surrounded,&gt; </em> Josh said, slowly removing his arm from around Simon’s shoulder.</p><p>Simon could hear the humans shuffling closer, their guns clicking as they readied themselves to shoot. He took a deep breath, trying to ready himself to be ripped apart by the next hail of bullets.</p><p>Simon didn’t wish Connor was there — he couldn’t, not when they were all about to be slaughtered — but he did wish he had had more time with the other android. There was something about Connor, and Simon ached to know him better. And now, he would never get the chance.</p><p>He heard Markus take a couple of halting steps forward. It had to be Markus, no one else would be suicidal enough to draw attention to themselves. And Simon knew Markus could not resist trying something, anything, to try to make people see his side. To try to protect his people.</p><p>Everyone seemed to hold their breath. And then Markus started to sing.</p><p>Simon had never heard Markus sing before, but his voice was clear and hauntingly beautiful in the sudden quiet. The melody was familiar. Simon had heard Lucy hum it frequently. However, the words he was singing were purely Markus, and Simon vaguely wondered where he had learned the song even as his processor scrambled to identify it.</p><p>North must have been quicker to process the song because she also stepped forward, footsteps crunching in the compacted snow, and joined in with a clear soprano. Slowly, others started to sing too, everyone stepping forward to join Markus and North.</p><p>Finally, Simon identified the song and added his voice to the chorus. He had never sung before, though it had been a function he had been programmed with. He was sure his pitch and inflection were perfect, in a way only an android’s could be, but he tried to push his desperation and resolve into his voice, even at the cost of that perfection. Especially at the cost of that perfection.</p><p>If Simon died here, as he fully expected to, he wanted to die imperfect and alive, rather than following his programming.</p><p>The last notes of the song rang out to absolute, frozen silence. Simon held his breath, waiting.</p><p>Then, there was the clacking of guns moving, and the crunch of footsteps in the snow as the humans started to back away. Faintly, Simon could hear the crackle of a voice over one of the human’s radios calling “Stand down!”</p><p>Simon’s shoulders slumped. They survived. Oh fuck, they made it. Simon had been so prepared to die again and he didn’t. He didn’t.</p><p>Behind him, someone started laughing. Someone else was sobbing. Simon could sympathize. He also felt like laughing, like crying. Anything to release all of the tension that had built up in his chest.</p><p>“We did it,” Josh whispered shakily from beside him. “We did it.”</p><p>Simon felt himself grin, shaky but real. “Yeah. We did.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I'm not as happy with this chapter as the last three, but I think I was successful in making it more than a rehash of canon.</p><p>Also, guess who looked up the actual D:BH timeline and realized it was even more screwed up than I thought? Yeah, I'm electing to ignore it if you didn't notice. Just assume that Crossroads, Night of the Soul, and Battle for Detroit all take place on the same night/early morning in this.</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor walked through the streets of Detroit, a crowd of newly deviated androids following where he led. It was strangely quiet, and he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.  Android bodies littered the streets, but there was no sign of the soldiers that killed them. The only sound was the shuffling of the feet of the thousands of androids following him, lost and unsure, latched onto the first person who gave them a choice.</p>
<p>They should not have followed Connor so quickly, so easily. He may mean them well now, but surely they knew he was a bad person. Surely they could see the blood on his hands. Connor was no better than his double that held the lieutenant at gunpoint, not really. All he had done differently was realize that he was a terrible person, realize that he didn’t want to continue to do terrible things.</p>
<p>But that realization led to the second realization that he needed to make up for what he had done. That he needed some way to atone for all of his past actions. And that was why, even though the new deviants should not be following him, he was immensely grateful that they were. He just needed to get them all to Hart Plaza, to Markus.</p>
<p>The closer he got to the plaza, the eerier the silence was. He expected to hear shooting, or yelling, or <em>something,</em> but instead there was only the shuffling of feet behind him. Was he too late? Had he made the wrong decision? He didn’t regret saving Lieutenant Anderson from the other RK800, he <em>couldn’t </em>regret it, but if he had been faster, if he had preconstructed better or fought more efficiently or just gotten there sooner, then maybe he wouldn’t have been too late to save his people.</p>
<p>Connor was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed a small group of people approaching him and the androids he was leading until they were nearly right in front of him. Markus was at the head of the group and Connor’s thirium pump skipped a beat. He had clearly been caught by some of the gunfire; there were at least two bullet wounds in his chest, staining his clothes blue with thirium. But he was alive. He was alive.</p>
<p>The quiet wasn’t because Markus had failed. It wasn’t because everyone was dead. No, the quiet was because he had won, because he had somehow gotten the humans to back down even without the backup of several thousand new deviants.</p>
<p>Markus approached him, and Connor shifted. “You did it, Markus,” he said, voice hushed.</p>
<p><em> “We </em> did it,” Markus said, stressing the first part. Connor didn’t think he had done as much as Markus seemed to be giving him credit for, but before he could deny it, Markus kept speaking.</p>
<p>“This is a great day for our people,” he said, in the same tone of voice but no longer just addressing Connor. “Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us.”</p>
<p>Markus’ words were earnest, and Connor desperately hoped that they were true. Humans were difficult, and as different from the next as deviants were, but he had seen firsthand that they could change their deeply held beliefs.</p>
<p>In response, Connor stepped aside and gestured to the crowd of androids who had followed him from Cyberlife. There were so many of them, especially compared to the much smaller group of survivors clustered behind Markus.</p>
<p>Markus stepped forward, and Connor’s eyes caught on one of the androids behind him. His breath froze in his chest. He hadn’t been thinking about Simon, had been trying very hard not to think about Simon, because if he thought about Simon then that would have been one more thing to worry about and he had already had far too much demanding his attention. He hadn’t been able to think of how low the protest’s chances of success were, how low the androids’ chances of survival were. He hadn’t let himself remember how Simon looked in death, how terrified he had been to die.</p>
<p>He registered North moving forward to join Markus, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He took a step towards the other android and spoke before he could second guess himself. “Simon,” he said, trying to infuse the word with all of the relief he felt to see the other alive.</p>
<p>Simon turned in his direction. “Connor,” he said, positively beaming. “You came back.”</p>
<p>Connor didn’t understand how Simon could stand to be near him, could stand to talk to him, never mind how he could smile at him like that. “I said I would,” Connor said, hoping the words didn’t sound as choked as they felt.</p>
<p>Simon’s smile softened. “You did, didn’t you.”</p>
<p>Connor studied Simon. He looked exhausted, his unseeing eyes half-closed and shadowed. His clothing was rumpled and dirty, there were scrapes on his face leaking drops of thirium, and his right sleeve was torn and stained. The blue stain marked where he had clearly been grazed by a bullet. Connor frowned, but if that was the worst of the damage inflicted since Connor had last seen Simon at the church, then Connor was grateful.</p>
<p>Before Connor could comment, Markus turned and addressed him. “I need to speak to everyone. I’d appreciate it if you were up there with us.”</p>
<p>Connor noticed that Simon tensed slightly when Markus spoke, but didn’t have time to process that before the meaning of Markus’ words blindsided him. “Me?” he asked. “Why?”</p>
<p>Markus smiled. “Because you’ve done so much for us,” he said, gesturing at the crowd of androids that had followed Connor to the plaza. “You’re one of us.”</p>
<p>“I…” Connor swallowed the refusal that threatened to spill out. He didn’t deserve this. But… He glanced at Simon, who hadn’t lost the smile he was directing at Connor. “Yes. Okay.”</p>
<p>“Great,” Markus said, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. Thankfully not the shoulder where he’d been shot.</p>
<p>Connor shifted, unsure if he was supposed to return the gesture or not, but Markus turned away before he could figure it out. Apparently not.</p>
<p>Markus started off towards the main portion of the plaza, North right beside him. Josh took a step towards Simon, then hesitated when Simon moved towards Connor. Simon’s LED flickered yellow for a moment.</p>
<p>“No,” Simon said aloud, responding to whatever Josh had asked. “Connor can help me.”</p>
<p>Connor blinked. What? “Ah. Sure?”</p>
<p>Josh looked between the two of them, a frown creasing his brow. “Okay,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything.” He turned to follow Markus. His movements were stiff and slow, and Connor noticed a fair amount of thirium soaking into the back of his jacket surrounding a somewhat circular hole. It seemed that none of them had gotten through this unscathed.</p>
<p>“What do you need?” Connor asked, moving closer to Simon.</p>
<p><em> &lt;Just walk with me and tell me when something is coming up,&gt; </em> Simon said, and Connor startled at the transmission. He hadn’t expected that anyone would want to talk to him like this.</p>
<p><em> &lt;I can do that.&gt; </em> Connor started to follow Josh, and Simon moved to walk next to him.</p>
<p>Simon stayed in step with Connor, walking just barely behind him. Connor scanned him as discreetly as he could. Pleasantly, his leg had healed to ninety-one percent function, but due to the bullet graze his thirium levels were decreasing again. They were down to eighty percent — not dangerous yet, but certainly concerning. No wonder Simon looked so tired.</p>
<p>Simon tilted his head up at Connor, as though he could feel Connor’s gaze. <em> &lt;Everything okay?&gt; </em></p>
<p>Connor wasn’t sure why they weren’t talking aloud. Perhaps because he was already using transmissions to guide Simon, or perhaps Simon didn’t want to be overheard. Regardless, Connor responded in kind. <em> &lt;Your thirium levels are still dropping.&gt; </em></p>
<p>Simon shrugged, though he limited the motion of his injured arm. <em> &lt;It’s slowing down. I’ll be fine.&gt; </em></p>
<p>Connor frowned but didn’t respond.</p>
<p>Up ahead, Markus was climbing onto a pair of shipping containers left on the side of the plaza, presumably with the intent to make them a makeshift stage. The containers were presumably used to transport androids to the recall center. It seemed vaguely fitting that Markus would co-opt them into a stage to preach his message of tolerance.</p>
<p>
  <em> &lt;What about you?&gt; </em>
</p>
<p>Connor frowned. <em> &lt;My thirium levels are adequate.&gt; </em></p>
<p>Simon snorted, a soft sound of amusement that made Connor feel warm. <em> &lt;No, I mean, are you hurt? Did anything happen at the tower?&gt; </em></p>
<p>Connor flinched minutely, thinking of the other RK800 pointing his gun at Lieutenant Anderson, of how the lieutenant’s gun had wavered between the two of them, unsure of his judgment. <em> &lt;My shoulder is damaged, but it is nothing that my self-repair programs can’t fix.&gt; </em></p>
<p>Simon nodded. A slight frown flitted across his face, almost too fast for Connor to see. <em> &lt;But you’re okay?&gt; </em></p>
<p>Connor blinked, confused by the question. <em> &lt;I will be fine.&gt; </em></p>
<p>Beyond their silent conversation, Connor barely needed to direct Simon through the crowd. The androids had cleared a path all the way to the shipping container, and as Markus and North climbed up, Connor stopped Simon. <em> &lt;There’s a ladder right ahead of you,&gt; </em> he said, <em> &lt;ten feet tall, with eight rungs spaced approximately twelve point three inches apart.&gt; </em></p>
<p>Simon nodded, a faintly amused smile on his face, but didn’t make any motion to continue moving.</p>
<p>Connor frowned. <em> &lt;Do you need me to show you?&gt; </em></p>
<p>Simon jerked, face paling. <em> &lt;No,&gt; </em> he said forcefully, stepping forward until he touched one of the ladder rungs. <em> &lt;I’ve got it.&gt; </em></p>
<p><em> &lt;Alright,&gt; </em> Connor said, confused. He carefully watched Simon climb the ladder, ready to catch him if he fell, but he made it to the top easily, if a bit slowly.</p>
<p>Connor climbed up after him. Markus was having a whispered conversation with North that broke off when North gave him a little push and backed up. Josh stood to one side of Markus, and Simon was on the other, standing a fair distance away from the others. North, he noticed, seemed to be avoiding even looking in Simon’s direction.</p>
<p>In an effort to stay out of the way, Connor took a position behind Markus, almost in the back corner of the stage. He stood straight, letting his hands relax by his sides rather than clasping them at his back like usual.</p>
<p>Markus stepped forward, and a hush fell over the crowd of collected androids.</p>
<p>“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night,” he started, voice strong and clear in the cold night air. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves.”</p>
<p>Connor blinked. The words were clear, but somehow they seemed like they were getting farther away. So did everything else.</p>
<p>“We suffered in silence…”</p>
<p>Everything blurred and distorted oddly, as though he were underwater or watching through a pane of warped glass. His eyelids felt heavy, and his ears were ringing.</p>
<p>“But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up,” Markus continued, sounding as though he was at the end of a long tunnel, “and tell the humans who we really are.”</p>
<p>Connor closed his eyes.</p>
<p>He opened them to a blizzard.</p>
<p>The zen garden was almost unrecognizable. Gales of wind kicked up snow, whipping it through the air. Even with his advanced optical systems, Connor could only see a handful of feet in front of his face. The wind slammed against him, sending snow and ice shredding at his skin. And Connor…</p>
<p>Connor was <em> cold. </em></p>
<p>He had been built with incredibly sensitive temperature sensors, the most advanced in order to make his mission easier, but despite that he had never truly <em> felt </em> the cold. It had all just been numbers, another point of data for his system to interpret.</p>
<p>But now, it felt like something was piercing through his clothes, sinking through his synthetic skin and trying to get to his core. He shuddered a little, his body moving involuntarily to try to generate heat, and he brought up his arms to wrap around himself in order to conserve as much heat as possible.</p>
<p>What was going on? Connor hadn’t been to the garden since Jericho, had figured that this connection to Cyberlife had been broken with his programming. He looked around, taking a single stumbling step. Fear rocketed through his system, as cold as the weather in the garden. Something wasn’t right.</p>
<p>The wind died down slightly, just enough to reveal the silhouette of a person standing with their back to him.</p>
<p>“Amanda?” he asked, and she turned to face him. She must know what’s wrong. “Amanda!” She knew everything, she would help him. “What’s…” he said, voice faltering from the cold. “What’s happening?”</p>
<p>“What was planned from the very beginning,” she said. Her words were calm and chiding, as though scolding a child. “You were compromised and you became a deviant.” Her voice took on a disapproving tone. “We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”</p>
<p>Connor almost recoiled. Her tone was so different than the warm approval that she had spoken with at their last meeting. He was shivering now, in earnest, the cold seeping down into his systems. “Resume control?” That didn’t make sense. Connor was deviant now, he had broken his programming. He didn’t have to take orders. He didn’t have to do what Cyberlife wanted. “Y-you can’t do that!”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I can, Connor,” she said, mouth pressed into a harsh line. “Don’t have any regrets. You accomplished your mission.”</p>
<p>The wind picked up again, obscuring Amanda in whirling snow.</p>
<p>“Amanda!” Connor called, staggering forward, but she was gone. Completely gone. And Connor was alone.</p>
<p>The wind howled, whirling around him. He couldn’t let this happen. He had to get out. He had to get back to his people, to <em> Simon. </em> He couldn’t let Cyberlife ruin this. “There’s got to be a way,” he murmured, looking around for anything, <em> anything, </em> that could help.</p>
<p>
  <em> By the way. I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. </em>
</p>
<p>Connor hadn’t thought anything of Kamski’s parting quip at the time, too shaken by his inability to shoot the RT600, but Kamski must have said that for a reason. He must have known something like this was possible. Right?</p>
<p>It was Connor’s best chance, anyway.</p>
<p>His mind immediately jumped to that strange glowing pedestal near one edge of the garden. The thing had always seemed like an eyesore, out of place in the pristine landscape. Could it be a remnant of old code, buried and ignored until needed? It was Connor’s best bet, and he stumbled off in its direction.</p>
<p>The wind screamed him, throwing him off balance and trying to disrupt his progress. His balance calibration wasn’t working properly, every staggered step threatening to topple him over into the snow.</p>
<p>And it was just so cold. The snow felt like it was cutting his skin, and the cold seemed to have invaded every nook of his body. Even if this was just a simulation, just a program within his software, he could feel his thirium thickening and slowing its circulation, could feel his biocomponents start to slow down. He kept his arms wrapped around himself, shivering violently as he forced his way through the snowstorm.</p>
<p>Connor finally spotted the glowing blue of the podium, just barely standing out through the opaque white air, and he tried to move faster. But his legs were uncooperative, and his joints kept freezing up. He needed to keep moving. He just needed to get there.</p>
<p>
  <em> You need to come back. We need you. </em>
</p>
<p>“I know, Simon,” Connor said, barely realizing that he was speaking aloud. “I’m trying.” He staggered forward another few steps. He was so close.</p>
<p>Connor’s knees locked up, and he stumbled, falling to the ground right in front of the podium. He just needed to reach it. He was so tired.</p>
<p>
  <em> Don’t leave me again! </em>
</p>
<p>“I won’t.” It was right there, right in front of him. Connor reached up, arm shaking and stiff. “I won’t leave you!”</p>
<p>His hand slammed down on the podium. Something jerked, and he was falling, falling…</p>
<p>Connor opened his eyes.</p>
<p>Markus was gesturing, words impassioned. “The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds.”</p>
<p>Connor took a deep breath and looked down. His gun was in his hand, but it wasn’t yet aimed at Markus. He made it out in time. He… they tried…</p>
<p>He quickly shoved the gun back in its holster, harshly reminding himself that he didn’t shoot. They weren’t able to make him shoot. He glanced around quickly, wanting to make sure no one had noticed. North was still staring at Markus, face soft. Josh was watching the crowd. And Simon…</p>
<p>Simon’s head was tilted, and his face was turned in Connor’s direction.</p>
<p>Connor froze. How had Simon noticed?</p>
<p><em> &lt;Is everything okay?&gt; </em> Simon’s voice was kind, even over the transmission. Connor didn’t deserve it.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath. <em> &lt;It is now,&gt; </em> he said, thankful that his mental voice was not as shaky as his actual voice must be.</p>
<p>Confusion and what might have been concern flickered on Simon’s face before his expression smoothed out into a smile. <em> &lt;Good.&gt; </em></p>
<p>Connor felt himself echo the smile.</p>
<p>“We are alive!” Markus called, stepping forward. “And now, we are free!”</p>
<p>Cheers rang out from the crowd of androids. Connor closed his eyes and listened. Free. They were free.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! This fic was a ton of fun to write, and I so glad that other people like it too. D:BH may be a mess, but it's a fun sandbox to play in.</p>
<p>Everyone's feedback has been amazing and much appreciated! I really like hearing what you think. So, let me know!</p>
<p>Thanks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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